Page 394
by AkaiArsony
Summary: Sometimes, life goes on as fast as we turn to the next page of a messy story. [Sporadic update intervals]
1. 01 - The Dungeons are Boring

DISCLAIMER: I don't own Harry Potter.

* * *

"Sev."

"… No."

"C'mon, just for a little while?"

" _No_."

"There's nothing else to do here!"

"There is, if you would have the barest of an iota of an initiative to finish your meditative exercises." The man observed as the lad lazily took to slowly leafing page by page from his Occlumency tome, before it was seized all too quickly and used by greasy-haired git for another purpose.

The loud _thwack_ made him think of the number of brain cells he must have lost. "Page 394, cheeky prat."

The lad grumbled, ceasing the act when the professor sent another, yet more intense, glare in his general direction—of course, which referred to just _all of him._

"Now, if you will excuse me, I must attend to delegated duties in need of my presence as Hogwarts professor."

"But you'll just be stuffing your face at the Halloween feast!"

" _Exactly_. Stay here and _do. Not. Touch. Anything._ Do not even attempt to leave. Try it, and I assure you that you will not have the ironic pleasure of cleaning after your own entrails once they've been blasted out of your twig of a body."

The finality of Severus Snape's voice trailed after his billowing robes as he made to exit his classroom, making his way to the Great Hall for the feast that Halloween night. A wave of his wand shut the door with a loud _thud_ , with the barest sound of his footfalls echoing away.

The boy grumbled in frustration, wondering why the man had to be an insufferable git at times. Having come to spend most of his time with Severus, he was used to the demeanor with which the greasy-haired Potions Master used to associate with other people—what the boy would never get used to, though, was having to react every time Severus just _had_ to be a git. He had wondered briefly before if the man was even capable of smiling, but thought better of it since it was a very haunting facial expression if ever plastered upon the professor's face, one that he was sure would keep him awake in the dead of the night.

Then again, he would always defer to Albus when it came to the reasons behind the attitude of one Severus Snape. The elderly wizard would always have that sad smile on his face when the past of Hogwarts' resident Potions Master came to light, made more apparent by the despondent sheen he'd spot behind those half-moon spectacles. The man had told him of only what he was allowed to tell—Albus would always say that it was not his right to tell the _whole_ story—and from it, the boy could glean some semblance of an understanding as to why Severus behaved that way. The lemon drops offered were a bonus, too.

Perhaps what was most surprising to him was that it had involved his mother and her friends. Severus was not a happy camper when the professor had learned of the lad's knowledge regarding a past wished to be hidden and better left where it lay. What surprised the boy, however, was that the git was not vocal, even when he was expecting an hour-long Snape-Rant, when it had come to that particular subject of conversation. There was the git-mask in place—the boy was entirely sure it was the Potions teacher's default facial expression—yet there were cracks here and there, leaking mixtures of anger, regret, and sadness.

The day Severus Snape would cry, he thought, would be the day he'd be told his father was a House-Elf.

The boredom the boy felt was magnified by the uninteresting stock of materials within the classroom. He was already familiar with the stocks of tools and vials lined up on various shelves and cupboards, and of the faded instructions chalked up on an elevated blackboard, presumably for a very simple Pepper-Up Potion. He checked the table and saw the many parchments lying on the desk, and from what was written on them he had realized that they were submitted essays about the bare essentials of Potions-Making for newbies. Thinking that he had nothing else to do, and was tiring of gawking at the dust-coated flasks filled with liquids and oozes, he decided to sift through some of the paper.

He found himself enjoying the varying scrawls written on parchment upon parchment, most especially considering that these essays had been written by first-year students. A brief skim of the submissions, and an assessment of the class over this had him intrigued—some were rated _Acceptable_ , a select few given an _Exceeds Expectations_ , many marked with _Poor_ , a handful of _Dreadful_ _s_ , a single _Troll,_ and absolutely no _Outstanding_. What he found to be impressive information from the paper was that Severus actually took time to mark parts, lines, words, and sections that were significant, with some added comments here and there. It was clear the added notes were done in very Snape-like fashion, complete with bluntness, compelling wit and sarcasm for some, and a whole dose of "you better think about transferring now" for the more lacking papers.

v

Gryffindor. Longbottom, N. — _Acceptable_

"… _perhaps an earlier introduction to Herbology and Care of Magical Creatures can help with basic understanding on where to find ingredients? I think it's an important essential especially for a field practitioner…"_

 _* **A fine point, however you will not find newbies eager enough to laugh in the face of danger while milking Acromantula venom, nor will you find another to be attempting to search for the root while entangled between vine upon vine of Devil's Snare.**_

v

He concurred with both of the Longbottom kid's and Severus' points. It was by no means that he found himself regressing to an especially embarrassing memory of a failed attempt at obtaining phoenix tears from Fawkes, with the whole thing resulting to hearty laughter and a derisive snort from Albus and Severus, respectively. He wouldn't talk about that incident anymore.

v

Slytherin. Malfoy, D. — _Poor_

"… _better a familiarity with the right stores and shop-owners to obtain only the best of tools and materials. Who knows what untrustworthy wares half-bloods sell nowadays, you might as well have a defective House-Elf cooking you ashes for meals…"_

 _*_ _ **Potions-Making is a field**_ _ **more than it is business;**_ _ **while tools that would last longer are recommended, the means of acquisition are not of interest. The rest of the essay is off-topic. Ten points from Slytherin for off-handed comments.**_

v

What is this? Severus Snape, _willingly_ taking points from _Slytherin_? Where _he was Head of House_? And from a _first-year's essay, written by his godson_?He pictured the man to be quite biased with this, but then again Albus had warned him not to jump so quickly into conclusions, lest the consequences prove beneficial. Of course, the bigotry and off-handed remarks on the parchment were quite unnecessary, to say the least, and the lad knew just how Severus really felt about those of non-Pureblood descent.

v

Slytherin. Greengrass, D. — _Exceeds Expectations_

"… _of most significance would be the exercise of caution in Potions-Making—this includes, of course, knowledge of handling the tools and the ingredients, and being prepared for the worse. As beginners lack the reflexes of a well-seasoned Potions Master, it would be wise if within an arms reach were materials in case of volatile accidents…"_

 ** _*_ _Astute observations, and articulate statements that demonstrates some of the most distinguishing characteristics between a novice and a Master._**

v

The length of Severus' comment plainly said "Need I say more?" right into his face. The whole paper was littered with multiple words and phrases marked and encircled with additional comments and _very slight_ suggestions with how to improve them. This Greengrass clearly showed promise as early as now, Severus was wise to edge her on like this. But by Merlin's great beard did he feel a smidgeon of envy—Severus had not once showed him a modicum of even egging him on in lessons, and instead would only defer to rude comments and dry bouts of sarcasm on his mistakes. Maybe this Greengrass was a girl, and Severus had a hard time keeping his mitts off of girls who showed flare and talent at Potions.

…

Ugh, that painted a horrible image in his mind. Nopenopenopenopenope.

Alright, next paper.

v

Gryffindor. Granger, H. — _Exceeds Expectation_

"… _aside from the topic of caution when in the place for practicing Potions Making, it should not be forgotten that of equal importance too is the following of instructions when it comes to the actual brewing. Constant vigilance on part of the brewing process needs to be coupled with fervent attention to what is happening and at what phase the actual potion is approaching. Accidents during the brewing process are more likely to happen when one loses focus over the brew or one fails to follow some of the simplest instructions…"_

 ** _* Excellent explanations and comprehensive expounding on the more likely mistakes a novice is to encounter, along with the needed skills of practice to be had._**

v

As far as the lad was concerned, the _whole essay_ should have been marked and encircled. This Granger was every bit as impressive as a writer as Greengrass, and the bare number of comments for improvement spoke volumes of just how far ahead this student was in contrast to the whole class. By a close margin, it seemed that Granger and Greengrass were neck and neck for top students in the Gryffindor-Slytherin joint class. The use even of "constant vigilance" had given him the idea that even Alastor Moody would applaud of this lengthy essay, and also admonish the author for making use of the retired Auror's mantra.

He clearly recalled Albus having shared before that prodigious pupils like these tended to appear very rarely every generation or so of wizards and witches, with more witches leaning to these kinds of convoluted fields, such as Potions, Ancient Runes and Arithmancy, and wizards leaning to subjects like Charms, Defense Against the Dark Arts, and Transfiguration, perhaps being more thrill-seekers than knowledge-seekers.

And once more, caused perhaps by the earlier off-handed image that had come to mind earlier, an imaginary image of Severus being attracted to these kinds of witches plagued him, and made him question the fine lines walked by his mind. He quashed the perverse thoughts and chucked them out of his head.

Soon enough, the boredom returned ten-fold after sifting through a few more parchments. The drudgery felt like lead weights, and no more than half an hour into his musings did he finally crack and decide to leave the darkness and dampness of the dungeons, damning whatever consequences Severus—and quite possibly even Albus—had in store for him. Probably additional Occlumency sessions to the tasking ones he already had scheduled. He could take it, he surmised; there was probably naught a shred of shame left, after all of the memories Severus had already sifted through.

He pulled out a folded piece of silvery fabric from his pocket, an object that was simply a handkerchief to the unknowing onlooker. The lad then pulled out his wand, mouthing _Finite_ , and the cloth then expanded full-size to what was presumably a cloak of sorts. A snicker escaped his lips as he draped the cloth over him, hiding his form and rendering him invisible to the eyes.

The lad was sure that the earlier warning about the door was very minor, and did not completely mean that his guts would explode into the dungeon's floor the moment his fingers touch the rusty door handle. Despite the harshness and lack of tact from Sev, having him on the floor, bleeding and disemboweled, would not put the Potions Master in the good graces of his mother.

And he knew how much Severus actually acknowledged his mother to be a walking _threat_.

A quick check of the lock meant it was locked from the outside (how did Sev even manage that?), solved by a swish of his wand and the silent casting of _Alohomora_. The boy then dropped a coin on the seat he was occupying earlier, then bolted from the dungeons, eager to explore the castle in the limited time Severus has not returned.

Out of his robes, he fished out a piece of parchment and then unfolded it, tracing his wand on top and quickly reciting the needed incantation.

"I solemnly swear that I am up to no good."

The Marauder's Map revealed all in its pure Marauder glory, displaying locations and the individuals who roamed Hogwarts. He searched for passages and quick detours that would take him to the more interesting areas, such as the Astronomy Tower and the Hogwarts Library, but was however distracted from the idea by a peculiar activity on the map.

One moment, Professor Quirrell was rushing into the Great Hall; the next, every single name within the place was scrambling for the door. Something must have occurred, he thought, and soon enough the students were being hurried out in orderly lines, all probably being led to their respective Houses.

And then another spectacle gave him a sinking feeling in the gut.

Oh.

 _Oh._

Oh, Morgana's saggy ti—

Footprints tagged with the names of McGonagall, Flitwick, Sprout, and the rest of the faculty (sans Snape and Quirrell, who were racing towards the third floor corridor) along with Albus were headed for _his_ direction—the dungeons. And from where he had come from, taking a separate corridor, was a label that only said "Troll," marching off to the nearby girl's loo.

What the Map showed him then erased the fear of the incoming teachers.

A hitched breath and a curse to Merlin later had him speeding off to the other corridor, reluctantly running to reach the tag named "Hermione Granger" before anything else were to happen. At this rate, the professors would arrive there way too late.

He could almost hear the Lily's nagging voice disapproving of his headfirst forays into danger for noble reasons. This would not end well.

* * *

Hermione Granger wished she had never come to Hogwarts.

At first, the prospect of embracing who she really was after the revelation of a lifetime smelled of roses and tasted of sweet, sweet honey. A witch, Professor McGonagall said. Capable of doing the what would be deemed impossible by the Muggle world. She was ecstatic. She wanted to get ahold of her wand after the Transfiguration professor's visit, and rush to the front of Hogwarts' gates as soon as possible.

And now, she had wanted no more than to return home, to cry into her mother's arms and to hear counsel from her father. It was the same. It was inevitable that it would have been the same. Everyone who has been cordial with her were no more than passing acquaintances. Despite the good grace she'd seen and experienced as she was welcomed into House Gryffindor, a few weeks in and there was already hearsay and rude commentary on her more extreme quirks of academic ambitions. At first, she had chosen to take no notice of it, especially since it came from the older years who she really didn't know and didn't really care about. Even Draco Malfoy's incessant remarks were in part easy to ignore. Then, it started getting worse, spreading into the Gryffindor boys of her year, backed with some of the girls as well. Ron Weasley made no attempt in hiding his thoughts on her being a bookworm and a "know-it-all."

To be ostracized as easily as that, and by her own year-mates and House-mates no less, tore into her—more than the bullying and demeaning treatment she'd had in the Muggle schools. Was there something wrong with chasing after knowledge? Did she rub them off the wrong way with her habits, of oftentimes taking it to extremes? Or was it because she was just _plain old Bucktooth Granger, of Muggle descent with a penchant for insufferable nagging and academic pride_?

No, she didn't care anymore. No one even cared enough to approach her that afternoon in the girl's lavatory, and even if Parvati had heard her, no effort was made to aid her. She had told her briefly to "go away!" and Parvati had gone and did just that.

So much for "friends."

Maybe she should just be home-schooled. At least, even if she were lonely, it would be better that way—no expectations from anyone else, no snide remarks about her every move, no tears to shed in case she was hurt. Who else would she need, but her parents, and the inked words spread page per page?

The bushy-haired first-year opened the stall door, feeling that the tears had now run dry. She surmised that everyone would still be at the Halloween feast at this point, and the comfort of being in the dormitory by herself would do best for her. Turning to the door, fear and trepidation then frayed the nerves edging her legs to walk forward.

The troll lumbered slowly and clumsily into the girl's lavatory, and with the tall creature inside, Hermione felt her surroundings shrink and close in on her. The towering oaf eyed its surroundings before settling its beady eyes on Hermione. The girl slowly shrank back into the confines of the stall, hurriedly closing it when her numbed senses went into panic mode. The giant roared, swinging the large club it carried and dismantling lavatory ornaments and tiles off of the walls. Its stomping cracked the floor, and with another roar it swung again and cleared the upper half of the stalls.

Hermione shrieked, fear clamping up her system and flooding her senses. There was nothing she could do, her wand was back in her other things in the dormitory. The girl found herself in tears once more, panicking as the probability of her death increased by the second.

She didn't want to die.

She didn't want to die.

 _She didn't want to die._

But it was no use. Prayer would not save her here. There were no protagonists in this story, and even in this magic-filled world, there were no guarantees of an adventurous story fraught with joy and success. This was the unfairness of life working, and she was unlucky enough to have found herself in front of its approach tonight.

The troll raised its club, black beady eyes staring at her with nothing but the primal visage of a hunter among hunted. She closed her eyes, bidding everything a silent farewell, as soon as she saw its arm swing down.

Seconds passed. It turned into a minute. Half more of it, and she had opened her teary eyes to see what had happened.

The troll was now floating in midair, along with its club, slowly rotating in the air like an astronaut in space. It grunted in clear confusion, flailing about and attempting to reach the club that drifted away from it.

Hermione was stupefied. What in the bloody name of Merlin was happening? Fear was now overcome with confusion, and even mild curiosity, as to what was happening.

And then, she spotted it.

A wand, pointing at the troll, was _afloat_ _midair_ and held by a _disembodied hand_. Her mouth fell agape at this scene, her brain rushing a mile a minute to check whether or not what she was seeing was real. This world was magic, she knew that, but what the heck was a _disembodied hand holding a wand_ doing in that room?!

A quick gesture and flick of the wand brought the girl out of her stupor as the troll was roughly rotated in the air, and another quick flick up sent it into the ceiling—the result was a mountain troll firmly stuck to the ceiling of the girl's lavatory, with its lower half dangling like some weird chandelier.

The bushy-haired girl's eyes were wide with surprise, definitely not expecting the sudden turn of events. She had scanned the room again in search of the floating hand, only to notice that it had disappeared altogether. A squeak escaped her as she felt something pull her, and was brought under some unseen cloak of some sort.

In front of her then was the most beautiful pair of eyes she'd ever seen.

"Stay quiet, and follow me."

Hermione nodded dumbly, before she felt heat rise to her face upon the realization that she was at such close proximity _with a boy_.

"Get behind me, and do not let go, okay? Don't say a word either."

She nodded and acquiesced to the request, before feeling that she had grabbed hold of her hands and placed them around his waist. Hermione was sure that if she had a mirror, her usually bright face would be painted crimson then and there. They walked hurriedly out of the lavatory, and then she'd heard a rush of footsteps from behind them. The professors were now at the scene, examining in clear surprise the result of the troll encounter. Although they passed by, they were not seen by the faculty—were they invisible, then? She eyed the faculty, and was surprised when a wide-eyed Dumbledore stared back at her, before his lips upturned ever so slightly, and then the Headmaster had sent a wink in her direction before turning to a confused Professor McGonagall.

Forcing the hitched breath down her throat, she shook her head briefly before turning to her rescuer's back and following his lead.

* * *

The lad pulled down the cloak, and hurriedly rushed through the potion cabinets in the Infirmary.

He made Granger (to think that he was right in surmising that she was a girl!) sit on one of the beds, eyeing him with an array of emotions—a look of gratitude, a pinch of wariness, and a boatload of confusion. Honestly, he didn't blame her—who wouldn't react like that after being saved by a random stranger in a life-and-death situation? Well, he didn't particularly mind staying a stranger, but at this point he was sure that was no longer an option. Then again, he would have been introduced sometime in the near future, but this was _not_ how he thought he would be introduced to what seemed like an intellectual young lady. Being acquainted in a classroom was simply much more preferable than to being acquainted after a near-death experience.

"… Thank you."

The girl's voice was raspy, sounding like she had been crying a lot. He turned briefly and found the girl close to tears again, and sighed. The lad slowly approached, conjuring a handkerchief and handing it over to Granger.

As much as he appreciated her thanks, he did not wish to mention that it was only by luck that he had come across her stroke of bad luck on the Map. The Marauder's Map was an item he promised to keep in secrecy, and he did not want Granger thinking that it was by a mere stroke of fortune that her life was spared from such a danger.

He went back to his search on the cabinets after the girl had accepted the fabric he gave, and grinned slightly when he found a vial of Pepper-Up Potion. Madam Pomfrey had shown him the twists and turns to the locations of specific potions in the Infirmary, but familiarity would not come to him in the span of only three days, after all. He did not possess the same eidetic ability Severus had in speedy memorization, much to his chagrin.

"Drink this, you'll feel better." The girl looked at the vial in hesitation, and then switched to looking at him again.

"Pepper-Up Potion. You're not injured, and you're better off a little more pepped up. After all," he eyed her in a more relaxed manner, and offered a smile as she drank down the offered liquid, "an encounter like that's bound to make you think twice about attending school—you're better off thinking about that after you've calmed down."

She blinked, staring at him with a distant look. "… But I already know I'll be withdrawing."

He had to admit, he was feeling a bit curious at this point—even with the nagging bit at the back of his mind screaming at him to forget the girl and haul arse back to the dungeons before Severus came back to dismember him. "And why's that?"

He regretted the question asked when the Granger girl was brought to tears again. "… I-I have no friends here, a-and everyone k-keeps bullying m-me. It's always the s-same, even in Muggle schools back home…" She wiped the tears away and sniffled, trying to rein back the emotions that threatened to spill out.

To the girl's (and his, in a more slight manner) surprise, he sat beside her and wrapped an arm around her shoulder, allowing her to lean in on him. At first, Granger stiffened at the gesture; but as he slowly rubbed her shoulder, the girl's posture relaxed and she cried on him, grabbing on his robes as if they were some lifeline.

"My mum does this for me whenever I hit a rough patch and think I'm lost. I'm not sure about you, but this always comforted me."

His free hand held her chin lightly, with Granger squeaking a little in surprise, and tilted her head up so that their eyes were level.

"Don't give up, 'kay? I know you're a Muggle-born, and it's always you guys who get the short end of the wand around these parts. It's unfair—I know—but, it's not always niceties we have to expect out life. People like…" he paused slightly, stopping himself from saying "us" for that particular part, "you are the ones who have two options when you reach this point: either give up and go home, or brave the storm and venture forth to greatness.

"You're a Gryffindor, yeah?" A fierce nod answered him, and he had to smile at that, along with the spark of hope twinkling in her eyes, "Great! Remember: bravery, courage, and all that—you weren't sorted into Godric's House just for nothing. I can tell you're smart," the girl blushed with an "eep," and he found it all too cute, "and if it was just for that, then you'd be in Ravenclaw. But no, you're in Gryffindor, and you need to remember that the courage you need is somewhere in you. You can bend, but don't break.

"I won't blame you for making whatever decision you make—just keep these things in mind, 'kay?"

"O-Okay."

He gave the girl a smile, and made to excuse himself. His noble half was satisfied for another good deed done, and the other half was telling him morosely of just how much punishment Severus was going to dish out.

"Um, wait! I've never seen you around here, and you're clearly not a student—are you a transfer student? And how do you know I'm in Gryffindor?"

The question caught him off-guard, and with how the arrangements have already been made, he decided there was no harm in answering her.

"Nah, I'm an intern. I've been stated here as an Apprentice for all the professors. If you do stay, you'll be seeing me around, and you can get to know what I'll be sticking around for in Hogwarts. As to your House… well, your submitted essay has told me a good deal about you."

Before he could exit, Granger rushed to him and extended a hand out. "Hermione Granger. That's me. Better late an introduction than never. And you?"

The lad raised an eyebrow, before grinning widely and taking Hermione's hand, and shaking it. Unknown to him, the girl would remember for all her life the green-eyed lad in front of her, complete with thick, messy white hair and dark robes bearing only the Hogwarts seal.

"Pleased to meet you, Hermione. I'm Julius."

* * *

It was a simple mechanic, really, that was placed into the rune etched into the coin he had left behind.

The rune's function was almost similar to an _Accio_ , only that it would pull him back to his last location far too quickly and forcefully for his own good. However, Julius found that it was, in some ways, quite convenient, especially when he could not Apparate within school grounds.

As the force pulled him back after its timed activation, he was literally dragged back to the Potions classroom with an unseen force, and then thrown into the dark dungeon room in a manner far too strong for his liking. He supposed he'd have to fix that rune, along with the necessary adjustment on the magic it tapped into.

" _Ahem_."

His blood froze as he turned around to be faced by an intense glare from Severus, who looked at him like his hand was caught inside the Potions Master's ingredient pantry.

A nervous chuckle was all he managed, along with a single word:

"Uhhh, parley?"

* * *

"Quite an evening, is it not?"

Julius looked around sheepishly, not wanting to meet the gaze of either Albus nor Severus—the former, for the knowledge of what had transpired that evening that was unknown to the Hogwarts populace; the latter, clearly disappointed at the brashness and clear disregard for established rules that the boy had not been able to keep.

"Perhaps we have to evaluate prior arrangements, Headmaster?" The irate Severus spoke all the while with eyes that refused to leave his figure; he was sure the man was drilling holes into him right about now. "It is clear that _some of us_ cannot clearly follow rules when they are due nor when they have been expressed."

The venom in Severus' voice surpassed the usual bite that it had, and even he was quite unnerved at the tone. It was at this time that he knew he had to keep his words civil, but selected. "But at least that Granger girl is safe."

"And so you consider your infuriating ventures of nobility to be grander than the schematics of designs which _we must keep_?! Is that what you imply, _Harry James Potter_?!"

"Julius" glared back at the man, wand out at the ready as he saw red and reined in the shout that threatened to rise out of his throat into a hoarse whisper. " _Don't. Say. That. Name._ _That man_ will never be my father, and—"

"And the arrogance you bear is as similar as every living cell on _that man's_ body, and I will not stand for you to keep showing Lily a portrait of her beloved son turning into copy of that blasted sonofa—"

" _Enough!_ "

Student and Master alike turned from one another and sat back down, disgust and fury evident from their expressions. Julius sighed, and then turned to regard Albus—it was not his intention to have disrespected both the Headmaster and Severus in that room, but even Albus had to admit that Severus _was clearly_ going past the line.

"… I'm sorry, Albus."

"… Forgive me for such a display, Headmaster."

The old wizard sighed, shook his head, and gave a resigned laugh. "Really now, if you both weren't so hell-bent on tearing one another apart, I would be confident enough to say that you resemble one another moreso than… others."

The comparison had both raising an eyebrow and giving Albus a look of disagreement, which only fueled the growing amusement leaking out of the Hogwarts Headmaster.

"Do not compare me to this man."

"Do not compare me to this boy."

Albus chose to shift the topic to abate the growing flames of another exchange. "Now, if we have all calm down, let us go on to discuss business before retiring for the night." He took the vial Julius had placed on his table, containing the memory for that night of the telltale escape from the Potions classroom and into the fortuitous meeting with one Hermione Granger.

"It was an unexpected precedence to have had that troll interrupting tonight's festivities—however, Julius, swift action has defended Hogwarts from the loss of a promising witch and I can't thank you enough for that." A nod from the young man was the reply, and upon which then Albus turned to the Potions professor seated across Julius. "And as for you, Severus, what has come to light about Professor Quirrell?"

The greasy-haired man gave Albus a look and told of his discoveries as to events prior the meeting. "I had cornered him by the third floor, thinking it was odd that he did not come with the rest of us to the dungeons. He pushed me out of the way, and, unfortunately," Severus pulled up the lower part of his robes to display a large wound on his leg where the blood had already dried, "I was unaware that Hagrid's pet had decided to finish its eveningly nap."

"You had Poppy look at that yet, Sev?" Julius asked, hints of worry leaking out of his tone. A curt nod from Severus answered him.

"Only shortly—I have my own potions for simple injuries that Madam Pomfrey does not need worry much. But I digress, Headmaster," he turned back to Albus, eyes alight with steel, "we need to re-secure the _item_ and to continue watching over… Professor Quirrell." The way the name rolled off his tongue was so contemptuous Julius was sure Severus' words could kill a man anytime, anywhere.

"Thank you, Severus. And now, tomorrow," Albus' eyes twinkled with that excited look, "will be the official induction and introduction of you, Julius, into Hogwarts as an Apprentice to Staff. I'm sure you've already had time to acclimate to the castle, and to the tasks you will be receiving from each of the professors?"

The albino nodded, much to the Headmaster's satisfaction.

"Splendid! You will be scheduled into attending only the first-year's classes for the rest of the year, and come January, you will be exposed to classes holding the other years. This plan you and Severus have concocted for Voldemort… I believe it is with this that we will finally end him."

And that was the crux of it all—the Dark Lord. Julius clenched his hands, ireful of the fact that Voldemort was half of the reason his life had become so upside-down. He had already sworn years ago, that if not just for himself, he would end the bastard for his mum. Lily Evans, after all, deserved all the retribution he had planned to give her.

"For now, I believe it is time for bed; the night has gone on long enough, and you, my dear boy, would need all the sleep for tomorrow, I believe." The amusement in the Headmaster's voice unnerved him, as if he was some sort of seer envisioning some sort of event the next day that would befall Julius. And he was sure that even if he found it spiteful, it would be ammunition for the old wizard and for Severus.

Both office guests bid Albus and one another a good night, before Julius was halted in his tracks by one last call from Albus. The lad turned to catch a book, frowning at the cover and looking back to the Headmaster for an explanation.

"Oh, and Julius. Look on for chapter eight. I think you might find yourself to be at the other end of a younger girl's infatuation tomorrow." The way the old wizard's eyebrows waggled at him was… indescribable, to say the least.

Reluctantly, he opened _Twelve Fail-Safe Ways to Charm Witches_ , and looked for the chapter.

 _Chapter Eight – Saving Damsels in Distress Will Always Net You the Damsel_

He threw the offending book back at the chuckling Albus who but just Vanished it. He turned and walked away with a red face, convincing himself to forget chapter eight.

Damned page 394.

* * *

 _* Edited and updated: 03142016_


	2. 02 - Swing From the Chandelier

DISCLAIMER: I don't own Harry Potter.

* * *

The Great Hall was abuzz with energy that morning, with the Hogwarts rumor mill working faster than the Daily Prophet could print. Breakfast was of most interest, especially when those who'd entered the Hall to dig into crisp bacon strips and eggs fried sunny-side up found their eyes trailing upon the addition to the faculty's table.

Seated on the far edge of the table beside Snape was a teen draped in Hogwarts robes; some had assumed it was a student, but with no colored trimmings whatsoever to address which House he belonged to, the idea was scratched out. What added to the mystery still was the cordial manner with which the lad shared with the resident Potions Master.

Severus Snape was, as some of the older students were loathe to admit, a prodigy who was more than enough to accommodate the Potions curriculum the school had. He was strict in class, and asked for nothing else but the best each could give, if not more of it. As such, the attitude all but rubbed off of most of the students the wrong way. Add to the fact that the man seemed to be incapable of anything else other than apathy, annoyance, anger, and sarcasm, the professor was found to be in possession of infamy among the academic denizens of Hogwarts.

That was the assumption that many did not question: Severus Snape's range of emotions rivaled that of an owl's. And by the very fact that his lips seemed to curl up _ever so slightly_ while in conversation with the young man left many that morning with mouths agape and chewed eggs falling back onto their plates.

As more students piled into their respective choice of tables and had done quick greetings among their peers, the whisperings and conversations all around had circled away from the expanding range of Snape's facial expressions and onto the albino chuckling heartily beside him.

Hearts were already skipping beats at his wonderful smile, his emerald orbs that seemed to shine behind those glasses, and the untamed and exotic fringe of white that crowned him. Mysterious did not even begin to expound on the young man's identity and background, and the majority of the female populace of students definitely agreed that just made him more captivating.

The males, on the other hand, could only make half-hearted, or very lacking, opinions on Snape's seatmate. There wasn't much information to digest here, and almost every rumor popping every second from neighboring Houses sounded every bit as outlandish as the one that came before it. But that did not mean they would pass the chance to size this guy up—whoever he might be.

Once the Great Hall's capacity seemed to approach nigh full, Dumbledore stood from his seat and approached the podium, with the students eager to hear much of the faculty's latest addition—if he _w_ _as_ more than just a guest, that was.

"Good morning to all! Now, as we enter the third month of our academic year, I hope that the first-year students have acclimated to the activities of Hogwarts. I have every confidence that most of you are quite comfortable with the pace you have chosen to approach your studies, but I advise that each and everyone please practice attentiveness when it comes to your grades.

"Now, I believe I have left everyone in wonder as to the addition we have here with us for our faculty. This young man has been taken in under the newly added Apprenticeship Course for most wizards and witches aspiring to begin their careers earlier, only graduating after five years of the Course. While most are unaware of the workings of the Apprenticeship, I am confident he will be quite happy to indulge your curiosity upon the matter.

"Allow me to introduce Apprentice Julius! He will be working with your professors during specific schedules to act as assistant and aide, especially to our fledgling first-years!"

A lukewarm applause filled the Hall as Julius had stood from his seat, expression all business-like, and bowed with poise to the students. Ears had perked up when no surname or second name followed after what was shared, further covering the Apprentice in fog. As he raised himself back up, his eyes scanned the Great Hall in search of one student, and as soon as he spotted the little squirrel, he broke into a coy grin and sent a knowing wink in the girl's direction.

The clapping from the Gryffindor contingent was suddenly mixed in with squeals of delight, much to McGonagall's chagrin.

Dumbledore gave the lad a knowing look, before he turned back to the Hogwarts populace to end the short notice. "That is it for this morning's announcements, so please enjoy breakfast and do not be late for classes!"

* * *

Hermione Granger had wanted to melt into a puddle then and there.

It had taken a while after she had taken a seat on the Gryffindor's table before she had noticed the buzz in the Great Hall's atmosphere. Well, it wasn't her fault that she remembered Professor Snape saying he would be giving a test after the Halloween feast, and that her priority then was her Potions book. It had been a rough night, what with the troll incident and her conflict about staying in Hogwarts, but she had somehow found herself getting through it. A swell of pride came into her at the thought that she was being a little more mature about the hardships she was experiencing, and that the sound advice she had received from Julius was definitely just that—sound.

The albino was literally deus ex machina that night. She was every ounce thankful for having been rescued, and to boot, that was the first ever time she could recall a boy had not taken to bullying or teasing her (well, there was Neville, but she didn't get to talk much with the rather shy lad). He had given her thoughts to think on, and made her see just what it took for her to be sorted into Gryffindor. Stalwartness, bravery—yes, she was also every bit as brainy, but she could now begin to see that there was more to her, and she would definitely start showing just what it was.

If only that "more" was present the moment she'd turn to the faculty table; there, beside Professor Snape, was Julius, eating and chatting a bit merrily with the usually taciturn man.

The announcement Dumbledore gave was every bit curiosity-catching, but what had turned her insides to goop and her brain to mush was when the albino chose to _look at her_ amidst the applause, and send a smile and a wink in her direction.

Dear Merlin, it did things to her that she'd never experienced before. Boys never looked at her that way before. Ever.

Emotion bubbled and simmered within her, and redness that crept up her neck and cheeks was heat far too much for comfort. A far cry he might have been from the image of a Mr. Darcy who Hermione had in mind for a husband, there was something to the albino teen that just screamed "book fantasy."

"Oh Merlin, he winked this way didn't he? Tell me he _winked this way_!"

A stab of annoyance got through her, fanned by the squealing from right behind. Honestly, perhaps they ought to show a little more tact! Then again, this _was_ Gryffindor, and the people here were much more in tune with their emotions that any other House (perhaps Hufflepuff could challenge them to that?). Finally getting her wits back around her, and with breakfast out of the way, she stood and began to walk with the few who were already headed for class, ready for another day at Hogwarts.

She briefly wondered if she would be encountering the Apprentice later that day.

* * *

"What do you think, Daphne?"

Daphne Greengrass tore her attention from _Magical Drafts and Potions_ to face Tracey Davis, seemingly quite more eager than her usual self. Much as Daphne disliked participating in gossip among the other students, it did her well that listening in part to some of the speculations and rumors gave her an idea to the workings of the student body—after all, what was a Slytherin student without the thirst for information?

It had been quite the amusing morning, the Greengrass heiress found, with the inclusion of a teen who looked older than them by only a few years into the Hogwarts faculty. Sure, the Headmaster had said he was only to be an assistant or aide of sorts, but that left much speculation as to other things, such as tasks, responsibilities, and, most importantly, authority.

The way he had been able to associate himself with Professor Snape, where others would typically embarrass themselves, was indeed commendable. For the short time she had spent under the man's tutelage, she found that he only showed respect where respect was deemed given. The Potions Master would display bouts of bias every now and then for Slytherin, but he was not so horribly subjective that he would not hand out deductions and punishments for his own House. And it made her quite curious as to the persona of Apprentice Julius; what was he capable of, or made of, even, that he was able to win over Severus Snape like that?

Then there was also last night's issue with the troll. Mountain trolls don't just barge into the castle like that—someone must've let the dumb oaf in. With the Apprentice's timing of arrival right after such an incident, and the weird arrangements that Hogwarts was holding since the start of the year, so many coincidences couldn't have been happening one after the other all out of convenience.

"I'm not entirely sure, Tracey. But," Daphne allowed her usual void expression to lighten a bit, and smiled at her friend, "he is an enigma worth watching for now."

"Ooh, I definitely get what you mean!"

Ah, she was glad Tracey was of the same opinion—for once.

"He looks quite fanciable, doesn't he?"

Ah, here was typical Tracey.

"… That's not… what I meant, Trace."

Tracey frowned at her when Daphne's palm met forehead. "Then, what did you mean?"

"Think Slytherin, Tracey—the morning after an incident, the guy appears out of thin air. Well, just too many coincidences for the year so far, I think, so maybe the Apprentice is worth watching out for."

Tracey regarded the blonde with a curious look. "That sounds like something Auror Moody would say, wouldn't you reckon so? Maybe you're just too paranoid, Daph."

A sigh came from Daphne. "Maybe, maybe not. Although with the betrothal contract to that _git_ of all people…"

No, she had to control herself. This was not how her father had taught her to react. Her parents had no choice in the matter, after all. Dealing with Death Eaters who were part of the higher echelon of society was difficult enough for them—the neutral families—and with those especially who had positions in the Wizengamot. Threats could be made ever so easily, and evidence was but only a few galleons worth to be swept under the rug. Families that suddenly disappeared would not even be mentioned in the Prophet until someone got smart enough to notice, and that was with the Ministry's help on part with the feigned ignorance.

Wizarding politics was where the war was fought nowadays; words and charisma were ammunition within hearings and conferences, and factors like connections to other Pureblooded families were very much sought after, of course a priority above buying out the pockets of other officials. Trickery, scheming, and cunning were all too common now, and even the Head of the Wizengamot would surely be guilty of practicing them to a point.

A betrothal, in politics, was a messy affair, especially if it considered Debts among other things. And by that reason alone, she could understand the decisions her father had made, although she would never acknowledge the other end of the contract.

The Devil must've spoken, for she and Tracey were then approached by the self-proclaimed Slytherin Prince, accompanied by his pair of troll-like lackeys. It was a good thing, Daphne thought, that the other prominent families didn't so much as bother with the Malfoys. Lucius and his brood were the kind that were drunk from the lavishness they experienced, and took pride in having officials of the Ministry sniffing around the Malfoy pockets for galleons waiting to be handed out "charitably."

"Greengrass. I didn't see you greet me this morning—in fact," the blonde ponce sent a sneer Tracey's way, "it's quite offensive that you would prioritize this _filth_ over someone like me. I expect an apology, here and now."

Daphne scowled. Truth of the matter was that no one wanted to give a crap about Malfoy's words in Slytherin—the boy was every bit of a coward, and if it weren't for the fact that his father held a position in the Board of Governors, Draco was mostly ignored or avoided altogether. It didn't help that such tactics were hard to perform when the ponce had the habit of running his mouth at the wrong place and time.

The boy infuriated her—the mere fact that she was being _forced into marriage_ with a prat whose ego was inversely proportional to his brain capability made her stomach turn. And if there was one thing she hated most about Draco Malfoy, it was the fact that he was a bigoted freak who would not deign to give lesser breeds the time of the day.

And he crossed the line with Tracey.

"I will consider doing so, _Draco_ ," the way the name was said made the room colder, "if you would be _kind enough_ to take back what you've said about Tracey." The Ice Queen persona took over, and she was sure the damned git flinched from mere eye contact.

Malfoy recovered, and took an even more haughty tone. "Why should I? Trash should be treated like trash, and _things_ like _this one_ deserved such a treatment. Apologize, Greengrass, and I might just consider calling Davis something… kinder."

Daphne saw red and began pulling out her wand, before she was stopped by Tracey and pushed down back into her seat.

"Daphne, stop. He's not worth it. Don't worry about me, okay?" A sad smile was all Tracey could give Daphne in appreciation for standing up to Malfoy, but Daphne's anger refused to abate with the tears Tracey was clearly holding back.

"Trace, I will not stand for this… _this ponce_ slandering your name!" she hissed.

"What did you call me, Greengrass?!"

"You heard me! You are an arrogant, cowardly ponce!"

Draco then wasted no time at drawing out his wand, pointing it at Daphne with a hex at the ready. "Take that back, you bi—"

Malfoy had no time to cast or finish his sentence when he was suddenly dragged to the front of the classroom and then hung on the ceiling. The boy flailed around and shouted, Crabbe and Goyle looking at each other in panic and with clear confusion at what to do. The other students within the room eyed the spectacle with great curiosity and concern, not used to the sight of Slytherin pitted against Slytherin.

"That's enough out of you. Ten points from Slytherin for offensive language and attitude, and a further fifteen for an attempt to hex a classmate."

All eyes turned to the doorway, albino hair and green eyes meeting their sight. The teen's expression was as apathetic as it got, but the eyes—power swirled, like the calm before the storm. It was unnerving, and yet all too majestic at the same time. Apprentice Julius strode in, wand in hand and still pointing at the Malfoy scion, levitating the boy in place just above Crabbe and Goyle.

"W-who do you think y-you are, doing this to m-me?! When my fa—"

"Oh? And I thought you enjoyed _being above others_ , lad. Well then, off to your chair."

A flick of the wand sent the Malfoy heir sailing across the room and into an empty seat at the back. Another wave, and before the boy could manage an attempt to hurl abuse, he was forcefully pushed down into the seat, tongue glued to the roof of his mouth.

"Another ten points for indecorous attitude towards a faculty member—Apprentice I may be, the rules dictate that I shall be treated similar to your professors. I believe your seat plan says you stay there with Crabbe and Goyle. Now," he turned to the rest of class, ignoring the looks of surprise and hanging jaws from the ego beat down the Malfoy scion received and regarding the class with a brighter expression, "please take your seats."

Daphne's jaw was still slack as the rest of the Gryffindors and Slytherins scrambled into their seats, murmurs here and there but not too much of a noise. Once the class was settled in, Apprentice Julius gave his wand a twirl, and Malfoy was then released of his bindings.

"Mister… Malfoy. Multiple choice: A. You speak out of term again, and I send you out with a detention; B. You speak out of term again, and I Banish you into Professor Snape's office along with a memory from Miss…" Daphne found his eyes passing over her, probably checking her identity, "Greengrass; or C. You keep yourself quiet, and we proceed with class."

"…"

"I can't hear you, Mister Malfoy. You'll have to speak up."

"… The last one," Malfoy hissed between gritted teeth.

Apprentice Julius grinned, directing then his attention to the class. As the teen called roll, Tracey brought Daphne out of her musings with a nudge to the ribs.

"… Daph, you better now?"

"Erm, yes, I believe so. But…"

She had to admit, no professor has ever put Malfoy in his place in such a way—or, for that matter, in such speed and crude efficiency. The very act had seemed cruel, but who were they to question the decision of having the ponce be put on the other end of a wand?

Daphne gazed over the Apprentice, dumbstruck by the suddenness of events prior. A quick assessment of what had taken place had her shock kick in at the realization that Apprentice Julius had performed non-verbal magic then, and though what he had done were simple in nature, she was confident that such complex workings behind it had required sophistication, knowledge, and focus that took years to reach—even for older, more experienced wizards and witches.

If that was the case, then just _who was this wizard_?

She was brought out of her thoughts when the roll had ended with Zabini, and the albino teen proceeded to go through a personal introduction with an open grin on his face.

"Headmaster Dumbledore has had the pleasure of introducing me earlier—Apprentice Julius, at your service, boys and girls!" Julius did a small bow, earning him grins and chuckles here and there, and further lightening up the tense mood within the room. "Now, are any of you particularly familiar with the Apprenticeship Course?"

A crowd of confused looks met the Apprentice.

"I'll take that as a no—very well. The Course is one that is entered rarely by few, and allows the Course takers to graduate after five years of study, as compared to the standard seven years.

"The difference of the Apprenticeship is that those who do take it are required to develop _their own_ field of magical specialty, or further an already existing branch of magic. As this necessitates research and experiments, the Apprentice is then to be put under the supervision of wizards and witches, like your professors, who can provide insight and knowledge to the Apprentice.

"Since I, as an Apprentice, am under the care of your dear school, and am considered as part of the faculty as per the dictation of the Apprenticeship Course's rules, I would also be spending time helping professors or standing in for them. As such, I will be doing my best to get to know you all; I am also allowed to _take and give points, hand out due punishments, and give lectures and homework._ "

The students of the room groaned in resignation, and judging from when they chose to do it, Julius had to chuckle at how they found homework to be more menacing than punishments or detentions. Well, these were students, after all—he remembered his first Apprenticeship year, dreading homework just as well. "Are there any questions to what I've said so far?"

A hand shot out, and was then addressed by the Apprentice. "Yes, Mister… Finnigan?"

"You'll be handling Potions today, then?"

He answered with a nod. "And to clarify, no—I teach quite differently from Professor Snape, if you wanted to ask."

Sighs of relief escaped the students, clearly the fear of a second menace in the dungeon having been an unfounded one. Daphne doubted that the Apprentice was even capable of the Snape Method of Education.

"There would be no brewing today, everyone. Instead of that, the Headmaster and your Potions professor had both suggested that I discuss with you part of my Course Research, which is developing my own specialty in magic."

Daphne's eyes were caught by the Apprentice's wand, the tool slim and of a dark charcoal shade. A wave of it, and then pieces of chalk flew over by the board, scribbling text and sketching images.

"My Research encompasses the fields of Potions, Herbology, Astrology, Charms, Transfiguration, Ancient Runes, Care of Magical Creatures, and Wand Lore."

"But you've said earlier that you needed a supervisor for fields of study—who's to teach for Wand Lore? I do believe it isn't a subject of study here in Hogwarts." Daphne turned back to look at the middle of the room, eyes locking on the bushy-haired Gryffindor. She had to give Granger props for that—sharp observations as usual.

Had Granger not noticed it, she was confident that she too would have recognized such a point. Wand Lore was only ever discussed among Wandmakers, and was of interest mostly to them. But to say she was uninterested in it now would be quite the denial—it made her curious as to just what it was the Apprentice had for his Course Research.

"Five points to Gryffindor, Miss Granger." A pink tinge colored Granger's cheek when the Apprentice had regarded her. "Quite sharp, just as your Head of House has told me. To answer your question, I _do_ have a supervisor, although our correspondence at the moment is quite restricted. But in the near future, I do believe Mr. Garrick Ollivander would be visiting Hogwarts quite often for study sessions with me."

"You mean, the same Mr. Ollivander who's made the wands we have?" Tracey asked from beside Daphne.

"The one and only, Miss… Davis. Now, to get back on topic—the exact specialty I wish to develop is a modernized version of Druid Magic, which is one of the Old Magics from where our own has been rooted for much of history.

"Druid Magic draws much from nature, making use of its natural bounty and utilizes the energy that is ever present all around. It is communing with plants, trees, and greenery; with animals and magical creatures. It is also especially affected by passing seasons, the appearing constellations, and the lunar cycles.

"For what reason to develop this modernized version? I believe that a return to one of the oldest, if not the oldest, roots of our magic is what will allow us to create a deeper understanding of the possibilities held by what we practice today. Young as you may be, you must deign to ask yourselves: where does it come from? What can you do with it? What are its limits? What are the relations of the many branches of magic we have?"

Daphne was in awe. She gazed all around, and found that much of the present students were also well intrigued with the current line of discussion. As convoluted as the topic sounded, it tugged at the more curious parts of the first-years' brains, for the first time making them much more interested at just _what_ magic truly was. It was to be a part of their lives for the many years to come, surely it would make them appreciate magic's existence more.

Apart from the discussion itself, there was something contagious to the Apprentice's enthusiasm for what he was studying on. The enthusiasm leaked from his voice, his focus, and it drew in the students, even those who were expected to be ever-so detached from academics, to actually try and use their brains and wrack it.

"Now, we'll be going through a simple discussion of Potions, and Herbology but with lesser detail, in relation to Druid Magic. Now, I'd like a few of you to tell me some of the brews you know."

"Draught of the Living Dead, sir," a plump boy of Gryffindor answered.

"Thank you, Mister Longbottom. Two points for that. Yes, Mister Zabini?"

"Um, Pepper-Up Potions." He nodded at Zabini, giving two points as well to Slytherin.

"Love Potions, sir." A hearty laugh erupted from the class courtesy of Ron Weasley.

"Ah, yes, a more infamous one, Thank you, Mister Weasley. Take two points as well. Now," Julius strode forward to the board, gesturing to one of the more prominently written lines, "Potions, to describe it in the simplest way possible, is the art of mixing ingredients for the purpose of creating a brew designed for a specific use—may it be to put you to sleep, to energize you, or to make you head over heels a warty witch, to name a few." Good-natured chuckling came from the students, especially the boys, and more and more of them were drawn to the lesson given by the Apprentice.

"By virtue of the Druids, Potions in its roots only had two real purposes." Julius' fingers trailed over the written words on the board, eyeing the students as they read the very short phrase referred to.

"Curing and afflicting?"

"Yes, Miss Greengrass," the blonde was surprised, not realizing her whispering was loud enough to have been heard, "curing and afflicting. Most of the ingredients druids would have for potions were from naturally growing herbs, plants, fungi, and such. These were readily available from within the forests they lived in, and had multitudes of different uses. Even individual ingredients could be used as it was, and there always were only two kinds of uses—to cure someone, or to afflict someone.

"Curing was not only limited to diseases—to some degree, even it was construed in such ways like 'how do we cure lying?' and so gave birth to the Veritaserum; or 'how do we cure dislike?' which may have been what brought the Love Potion.

"And if there existed ingredients which took danger away, then conversely there were those which brought trouble with it. Deadly plants and ingredients alike could cause various ailments, or worse even—death. Since such a fact could not be denied, then came along soon enough the creation of brews that were designed to amplify or mimic the effects of some natural vegetation. Mind you, that the early uses of some of these potions were documented as methods upon one individual only wished misfortune upon the other—well, that's still very similar to nowadays, to some degree."

Daphne was impressed—this level of teaching was of course very far from those of the regular faculty, but the insight displayed by the Apprentice blurred the lines that served as a way of comparison between his and the more professional's ability in educating. He was able to take what could have been extremely confounding and complicated points of study and strip it down to bare essentials and basic facts that would allow young ones such as their batch to connect it with the more basic lessons they had. Suddenly, Potions sounded much more interesting.

Add to that his command of attention and his handling of Malfoy, and it made him an enigma worth studying to the Greengrass heir.

* * *

"That had to be the most interesting Potions lecture I have come across so far."

Daphne found herself agreeing with Tracey's evaluation of the earlier session, actually having enjoyed a lecture that was hinged on theory.

"The guy knew his stuff, clearly. Now, if he could replace Professor Binns, that would be a great favor." Blaise Zabini added his two knuts in, earning a chuckle or two from the nearby first year snakes.

A snooty reply came from further down the line, a reply which none of them were surprised as having come from Draco Malfoy. "I don't buy it. Druid Magic? Old Magic? What difference does it make? It's all the same—it's all just magic, in the end. Besides, druids have _nothing_ on the wizards we will be in the future. When father learns of the idiot and his trash ambitions, I'm sure we'll have one less idiot to deal with here in Hogwarts."

"Knowing you, Malfoy, you probably didn't even understand half of what Apprentice Julius was discussing—admit it, you probably had fried your brain!" Snickers were drawn out from Tracey's remark, earning her a scowl from the blonde-haired boy.

Daphne decided to jump in the boat, if it meant making herself feeling better from earlier's run-in with the ponce. "That's awfully too kind of you Daphne—half? I don't think he even learned a _quarter_ from that lesson. I'm confident Crabbe and Goyle learned more altogether than what knowledge Malfoy could glean from Potions today."

Full-blown laughter exploded in the corridor from the male contingent of the first years, resulting in a very red Malfoy who was practically shaking in anger. Gryffindor and Slytherin boys alike were having too much fun at the expense of the ponce, and clearly spoke for the reputation Malfoy held. Despite the fact that the Gryffs were still confused as to the internal strife from within Slytherin, they made it clear that they all found a common enemy in the form of one Draco Malfoy.

"Are you sure you're supposed to be mouthing off like that to _me_ , Greengrass? Perhaps you need to be reminded of just where your place is!"

"And that definitely is not by yours, Malfoy," hissed Tracey, glaring at the Malfoy heir. "Just so you know."

"That does it!" Malfoy's wand was out faster than the rest could have reacted further, and the blonde was already ready to fire off a spell in Tracey and Daphne's direction, " _Furnunculus_!"

The way they had been positioned alerted Daphne that it would be Tracey on the receiving end of the spell, and had led to a split-second decision to push her friend out of harm's way. The blonde girl fell to the ground, the break-out of boils already starting on her unblemished skin.

Seeing the results, Malfoy had already begun backing away with a sneer and turned to run down the corridor, only for his escape to be impeded upon.

" _Levicorpus._ "

The Malfoy heir shouted in surprise as he was forcefully lifted into the air feet-first, dangling upside down from where he was stopped by Julius' spell.

"I believe you will be escorting me down to Professor Snape's office, Mister Malfoy. Miss Davis, Mister Zabini," he eyed the two who were kneeling beside the groaning Daphne, "please see to Miss Greengrass and bring her to Madam Pomfrey for treatment. As for the rest of you," the rest of the students who had crowded around the spectacle jumped in surprise as they were addressed, "please hurry down to the Great Hall, and do report what has happened to a Slytherin prefect. Corroborate the story please, and no embellishment or twisting of the facts—unless you would have me offering detentions?"

The rest of the students nodded vigorously and briskly walked past, filing out of the corridor in a hurry towards the Great Hall's direction. Julius then looked to Daphne, eyeing the witch with genuine concern.

"Do hurry to the Hospital Wing, I'll be along shortly."


End file.
